Dance With Me
by allonsysilvertongue
Summary: Based on the prompt for the Tumblr Challenge. "I wasn't aware you're capable of dancing.." says Effie


**A/N: This is based on the Tumblr Challenge. Prompt #24**

**& a huge thank you, to my beta; Capo!**

**Disclaimer: Don't own the characters. Just playing around with it :)**

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Here they are back where it all started; the Capitol, President Coriolanus Snow's mansion, to be exact. The Victory Tour at the residence of the Tyrant of Panem.

Haymitch sits, slumped ignominiously in a corner with a drink in his hand, watching as Katniss samples nearly every dish at the banquet with Peeta by her side; always at her side, hovering like a protective parent, never leaving her alone for a second too long.

He watches as these ridiculous Capitol citizens in their outlandish garb dance and laugh with one another, ignorant and swept away by the propaganda fed to them on a daily basis. He scoffs at them, disgusted at how misguided and blissfully ignorant they are.

His bloodshot eyes inevitably stray towards the petite woman in a flowing purple dress with her big lavender wig talking to Cinna. Effie Trinket, the escort of the Tributes of District 12.

He watches as the corners of her eyes crinkles like tiny crow's feet as she laughs; her hand with the perfectly manicured nails flying to cover her mouth. "It's bad manners for a lady to laugh so very loudly", he recalls her saying. How he remembers this particular detail, out of a veritable multitude he has of her, in a haze of intoxication is beyond him. But then again, nothing makes sense when it comes to Effie Trinket.

For as long as he can remember, she's the only who one cares; the one who was always there to guide him to bed when he was too stoned and roaring drunk to even be able to count his fingers. She's the one who holds a wet towel to his neck & forehead as he emptied the contents of his stomach; the one who throws him disapproving glares when he drinks for breakfast.

"It's too early to be drinking, Haymitch," she reprimands him in that irritating Capitol accent of hers.

She cares entirely too much for her tributes. Year after year after the initial bloodbath that kills their charges, she will begin to spin endless excuses and shuts herself in her room, crying, only to reappear with her wig andimmaculate make-up on, pretending like nothing is amiss. But he knows, oh Haymitch knows. One cannot hide the red eyes.

She deserves this at the very least; her two victors. Who would have thought?

Granted, she's nearly overwhelmed with the planning of the Victory Tour; schedules, schedules, schedules. But she is Effie Trinket and if there is one thing she is good at, it's planning.

Haymitch staggers unsteadily to his feet and makes his way to Effie. He's drunk as only Haymitch Abernathy can be, he could barely walk straight.

"Effie..." he mumbles.

She turns to face him and looks back at Cinna, a silent pleading look not to leave her to deal with Haymitch alone, a prospect that could possibly embarrass the entire District 12 team in his drunken state. 'Oh, Haymitch, not now, not when we are surrounded by all these important people', she thought to herself.

"Dance with me..." he says.

Cinna gives Effie a knowing smirk and leaves her standing there staring at Haymitch like he has grown a spare head, not quite comprehending his strange request.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I said, sweetheart, dance with me," he extends his hands, waiting for Effie to take it.

She uncertainly places her palm on top of his and is promptly twirled around. Her dress flowing and swirling around her feet; a sinuous cascade of pretty lavender. He's rather certain in the knowledge that the dress is covering her 6 inch heels.

"I wasn't aware you're capable of dancing. Much less in this drunken state you're in. You're drunk, aren't you? You must be- I can smell the stench of alcohol on you," she rambles off, her body pressed close to his as his arms tightens gently round her waist.

"Trinket, do you talk this much even when you're dancing?" he whispers in her ear, inconspicuouslyinhaling her sweet perfume. Vanilla, he thinks to himself, she smells of vanilla.

She blushes. She doesn't know what is wrong with her except that being in this man's arms flusters her. He probably won't remember this in the morning so she vows to enjoy this rare moment of dancing with him tonight and cherish it.

Secretly of course.

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**Reviews would be wonderful!**


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